


Sibling Rivalry

by Mithen



Category: The Pretender
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-30
Updated: 2009-11-30
Packaged: 2017-10-04 00:19:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mithen/pseuds/Mithen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Miss Parker and Mister Lyle are in a competition for their father's love.  Sometimes losing is winning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sibling Rivalry

Miss Parker and Mister Lyle are facing off again in front of Daddy's huge and shining walnut desk. Daddy is sitting at the desk, watching them debate, his eyes flicking back and forth between them like a tennis match. His hands are steepled. He is watching them, judging them. The argument's contents don't matter, although it has something to do with the Centre and its management, of course. What matters is what runs underneath the words. Who is doing better? Who looks smarter? Whose ideas are more flexible, more erudite?

Who deserves Daddy's love more?

Lyle is a formidable opponent; only Jarod has held his own against her so well. The words between them are pistols, are fencing foils, delicate and shining and deadly. Parker can't tell who is winning. Daddy's eyebrows flick upward as she makes a point: is he impressed or disapproving? She could never read him well enough. She tries. God, how she tries.

She is pressing a perceived advantage, cornering Lyle with her words, when Daddy stands up. "Enough," he says softly, and both fall immediately silent. "Angel. If you don't mind, I'd like to discuss some of these points with your brother in private."

So. She has lost, then. She pivots on legs gone numb and leaves the room, the heavy door swinging shut behind her. She hears the click as the lock slides home.

The pounding in her chest is disappointment, of course. It's not relief. She doesn't think about her reaction, doesn't think about what goes on when the door is locked. She lost the argument.

Somehow, though, it feels like winning. Like freedom.

If only for a moment.


End file.
